


I love you, and I love what you do to me.

by mariamegale



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Rimming, Shameless Smut, just a lot of smut, kind of, they are actually boyfriends but haven't figured that out yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariamegale/pseuds/mariamegale
Summary: Jesus Christ, Babe was going to die from sexual tension. He was going to die on his birthday, and that would make for one sad tombstone, wouldn’t it? “Gene, please—“ he tries, but he’s cut off by a tut.“No, sweetheart, that’s not gonna work. We don’t have time for both, so you have to pick one. And if you don’t, we won’t do either.” Babe whines, his knuckles going white with the grip he has on Gene’s knees. But when he opens his eyes Eugene has his determined face on, so he knows he’s not getting the man to budge on this one. “Which one is it going to be, kitten?”And because Babe is a weak man, he only leans forward to press a kiss to Eugene’s throat, sliding his hands up the insides of Gene’s thighs. The man sighs above him, tilts his head to give Babe better access while he unbuckles Eugene’s belt with shivering hands.OR: It's Babe's birthday, guys. You know what that means: Lots of kink, lots of congrats, lots of going to the dinosaur exhibit and Babe finally getting Eugene to put on eyeliner. Not all at the same time, though.
Relationships: Babe Heffron/Eugene Roe
Comments: 19
Kudos: 44





	I love you, and I love what you do to me.

**Author's Note:**

> okay this has been a fucking trip of a fever dream to write, so I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Call me Tom Hanks, because I have just spent a lot of hours making a long piece of work that I am immediately going to sort as an outtake because it'd fuck up the timeline.
> 
> So while this technically should be in the Call Me Sweetheart universe, consider it a stand-alone. You do not need to read that series to understand this work, only this context:
> 
> Eugene and Babe are roommates, and best friends, and somehow (neither of them can really explain just how it happens) start being… Not entirely platonic, any more. There’s a lot of reassurance through kisses, a fuckload of kink and cooking together while they figure it out, the rest of the gang just trying to understand what’s going on from the sidelines.
> 
> Babe is an incredibly subby boy, and this is essentially established-relationship, except they're kinda fuck- and love-buddies instead of Boyfriends. Or so they think.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! <3

Babe wakes up from a series of kisses being pressed into his neck. Or, well, kind of wakes up. 

It takes him a while to tell if he really is awake or if this is just a really nice dream, because he’s feeling soft and warm and there’s the distinct feeling of lips moving along the line of his shoulder and up behind his jaw.

He moans and gives a small shiver when a breath ghosts over the shell of his ear, and then Babe is rolled over on his back. His mind is starting to catch up to what’s going on, even if he’s not sure why, but Babe Heffron is not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or morning blowjobs, in this case.

At some point, now or earlier, he can’t tell, his underwear has been pushed down and there’s a blissfully wet hand on his dick. Babe has no idea what’s going on, but he rolls his hips into the touch and pulls the other man down into a kiss.

There’s laughter, but he kisses Babe back, twisting his hand in a way that draws another groan out of him. Eugene — because right, that’s his name, Eugene Roe, the most amazing and tantalising person Babe has ever had the very big pleasure of meeting — straddles his hips, and as Babe runs his sleep-heavy hands up Gene’s thighs, he realises the man is naked. 

Why is he naked? Sure, they’ve done this sometimes, but Babe doesn’t get why there’s suddenly a need for Eugene to not be wearing clothes. Sure, again, Babe needs to have his underwear taken off if he wants his dick sucked, but— Whatever. Maybe he’s not awake enough to understand, but he won’t complain, because this way of things also allows him to get a hand around Gene’s erection and the breathy little moan that move earns him is just fantastic.

Eugene kisses a line down Babe’s jaw to his ear, rubbing his hips over Babe’s in a slow rut that is both the best and the worst at the same time. 

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” Gene says, and Babe only has time to think ‘ _oh shit, yeah, it’s my birthday’_ before Eugene is leaning back, lines them up and then sinks down on Babe’s dick. 

Babe swears, because he did not expect that, and what the fuck, how the fuck, how is he doing this, did Eugene wake up early to quietly prepare himself just so he could— 

“Jesus Christ, Eugene,” Babe finally manages to moan, but barely, because Gene is wet and warm and tight around him, rolling his hips in a way that’s just on the right side of teasing for Babe to lose his train of thought. 

“Yeah,” Eugene laughs, tilting his head back with a moan as Babe lifts his hips up and pushes them back down. “Fuck, Babe— Happy birthday, good morning, sweetheart, God—“

Babe’s hips twitch, and he must hit just the right spot, because Eugene’s breath hitches and he clenches around Babe, leaning forward to kiss him again. It’s wet and deep and wonderful, Eugene moaning into it when Babe pulls a hand up to cup his jaw, his other hand on Gene’s ass to feel every movement of those hips.

They end up just kind of breathing against each other after a little while, and Babe takes the opportunity to run his thumb over Eugene’s bottom lip. It’s wet and red and swollen, like he’s been biting it, and he probably has, hasn’t he?

“How long have you been awake?” Babe asks, feeling out of breath, caught as much under Eugene’s body as his half-lidded, dark eyes, betraying how turned on he is just as much as his erection is.

“Just long enough,” Eugene murmurs, sticks his tongue out to lick over the pad of Babe’s thumb. Babe presses it into Gene’s mouth, gently, hooking it against the back of Eugene’s bottom teeth. It earns him an open-mouthed moan, Gene closing his eyes at another roll of his hips, and that’s it, Babe has had enough of this.

He rolls them over with a push on Eugene’s shoulder, the man going willingly with another laugh and a smooth movement, letting Babe push his back into the mattress from his new place between his thighs. 

Babe presses back into him to a mutual groan, leaning his forearm down next to Gene’s head so he can press a kiss to his temple. Eugene arches his back against the slow thrusts of Babe’s hips, wrapping one arm around Babe’s neck and running his other hand down his back. It comes to rest on the curve just above Babe’s ass, letting him feel the rolling of his spine as they move against each other.

“God, yes, there, _oui, ma chérie_ ,” Eugene moans, the airy note in his voice going straight to the pit of Babe’s stomach. He pauses for a second, just long enough to gently push a pillow under Gene’s back, giving his spine something to curve over. He tries the angle out with a rut of his hips, not thrusting as much as pressing his hips firmer against Eugene’s ass, swallowing the resounding groan in a kiss.

Gene moves one of his hands from Babe’s back, seeking out one of his instead, and Babe obliges him by weaving their fingers together and pressing their joint hands into the mattress. Eugene’s legs wrap around his waist, because the man is surprisingly flexible when he wants to be, allowing Babe to fuck him with deep, smooth thrusts of his hips that press them all the way together.

It’s by far the best morning sex at least Babe has ever had, and he’s in no hurry to end it, keeping the pace slow, making sure to fuck Eugene as thoroughly as he can. They build up to it, Gene working with him and meeting every movement with one of his own. 

“ _Joyeux anniversaire, chérie,_ ” Eugene whispers into Babe’s ear, nipping at his earlobe lovingly, letting out a stream of French that Babe doesn’t understand but sends a shiver down his spine anyway. Thinking of it, that’s probably the only reason Eugene does it. “ _Nom de Dieu, mon amoureux, ma bichette, la soleil de ma vie—_ Babe, sweetie, I’m close, God—“

Babe groans and kisses him, because he has to, and lets go of Eugene’s hand. Normally, Babe would help the guy out, but he allows himself to be a little selfish. It’s his birthday, he’ll give himself that.

Eugene doesn’t seem to mind, though, letting out little moans against Babe’s lips as he strokes himself, hand moving slowly between them in time with the thrusts of Babe’s hips. 

He takes one, two, shaking breaths and then he’s tensing up, pressing their bodies together with his legs and his free hand. Eugene whimpers into Babe’s temple and that’s what ends up pulling Babe over the line with him, his orgasm washing over him like a slow flood rather than a flash of lightning.

It almost takes some time to build up, a few more shivering breaths until he presses the side of his face into Gene’s neck with a drawn-out groan, feeling Eugene shake through his aftershocks under him.

Babe needs some time to come down from it, being rolled to his side and coaxed into a new series of long, slow, languid kisses until he finds the will to speak.

“Good morning,” Eugene says again, running one hand over every part of Babe’s neck and head he can reach. “And happy birthday.”

“You said that,” Babe laughs in return, laying down on his back so he can pull Gene on top of him. The man follows willingly, lets Babe hold him close with a hand on the small of his back, indulging him with what is probably a good ten minutes of lazily making out before making an attempt to draw back.

“Edward,” he tries, but Babe pulls him back down with an disagreeing sound. Eugene sighs through his nose, but smiles through a few more kisses before trying to untangle them again. “Sweetie, no, we have to get up.”

“But it’s my birthday,” Babe says, rolling Eugene over on his back again with what really is very little resistance. Gene laughs under him and stops Babe’s lips with the tips of his fingers.

“I know, _chérie_ , and we have plans,” he murmurs, sighing when Babe pulls two of Eugene’s fingers into his mouth wetly. “That is a really good attempt, but I’m a bit fucked out, _minou_. Now come on, go take a shower and you can have your second birthday present.”

Babe protests a little more, just to make a point, but Eugene eventually gets him out of bed and leads him to the bathroom with his hands over Babe’s eyes. Apparently there are things in the apartment he’s not allowed to see just yet, but he’s not about to complain, because Babe fucking loves surprises. 

He gets in the shower without much more fuss, since he is actually really looking forward to whatever this day has got in store for him.

Babe’s birthday is his single most adored day of the year, and that’s just because he has a hard time picking a favourite out of the many, many Pride-related days he celebrates. It also falls in May, which means that over the years he’s managed to make his birthday into kind of a soft opening, a secret start if you will, to Pride Month, and he’s more happy with that than literally any other achievement in his life.

So Babe is in a good mood. He showers, stealing Eugene’s shampoo because it smells like incense in an oddly comforting way that Babe doesn’t understand the chemistry behind, and the scent makes something soft and safe and happy bloom in his chest. When he gets out, feeling warm and tingly, there are three coat hangers placed on the small towel rack they’ve hung over the bathroom door. 

Babe is very glad their bathroom mat is purposefully anti-slip, because he stutters in his step when he sees it.

For a man supposedly very uninterested in clothes — Eugene is like a fucking cartoon character, Babe swears, he has at least three sets of the same fucking outfit hanging side by side in his closet, it’s ridiculous — Gene has an ability to find certain garments that Babe doesn’t comprehend.

There’s a sheer, almost see-through flight jacket, a pair of deep blue jeans and a yellow t-shirt hanging on the door, and they’re all sparkling with different kinds of glitter. Babe doesn’t even understand how it’s possible — on further inspection the trousers aren’t even blue, but seem to be made solely out of a million different colours and shade of sparkles, creating a deep, shimmering effect that Babe can tell will be visible from about seven thousand miles away.

He loves it. There’s even a pair of ankle socks tucked into the pocket of the jacket, not glittering, but with little baby penguins printed on them. They’re the cutest things Babe has ever seen, and he’s seen the way Eugene’s nose goes pink when he gets cold.

Babe puts it all on, feeling perhaps a little well flamboyant even for his tastes, but the outrageous sparkling is kind of mellowed out by the modest cuts, and Babe decides to just fucking own it.

He pads out of the bathroom carefully, smelling cocoa in the air and hearing Eugene hum in the kitchen. The balcony door is open, letting in the pre-summer warmth and sunlight from outside, because the universe loves Babe and has blessed him with a heat wave just at the time of his birthday. 

Moving as quietly as he can, Babe manages to sneak up behind Eugene, making him jump with surprise when Babe turns him around and presses a kiss to his mouth. Gene must recover pretty quickly, though, because he just wraps his arms around Babe’s neck with a small laugh.

Babe doesn’t think he’s ever heard Gene laugh so many times in just an hour and a half, and he is honestly just going to count that as another birthday present.

“Do you like it?” Eugene asks, and even the small thing of uncertainty in his voice is just unacceptable.

“I love it,” Babe murmurs back, stroking his hands over Eugene’s hips. They kiss for another few moments before Gene untangles himself determinedly. 

“Okay, I really need to shower now, but there is hot chocolate and cereal and you are being picked up at ten,” Eugene says, which makes Babe frown. 

“Wait,” he says, following Gene out of the kitchen when he fails to make him stay. “What do you mean I’m being picked up?”

Eugene laughs again, looking back at Babe from the door to the bathroom with eyes full of mirth. “I mean you’re being picked up. Now go have your breakfast, _chérie_ , and I’ll see you later. Oh, and don’t forget to check on the table before you leave.”

Then he closes the door behind him, leaving a confused but excited Babe to stand in the apartment. He looks around, eyes finding a vase on the coffee table that he’d somehow missed before.

It’s the one he got from his mother when his grandmother passed, a pink and white thing made out of thin, hand blown glass, and it’s filled to the bursting point with yellow tulips. They must have been placed there the night before, because they’re halfway to blooming already. 

Babe doesn’t even remember when the fuck he told Gene about the yellow tulips — he’d seen a bouquet in a floral shop once when he was a kid, and completely fallen in love with it in that odd way that children do. He’d waited nine months to be able to ask to get one for his birthday, because boys weren’t supposed or allowed to like flowers.

His parents hadn’t let him have it. But his grandmother had seen that something was wrong, and she’d coaxed him into telling her about it, quiet and ashamed and with burning cheeks. 

Without further ado she’d derailed the entire day to take Babe to a florists and pick up a bouquet, and whatever she did or didn’t say to his parents must have stuck, because those tulips stayed on Babe’s bedside table until they had wilted down to the last petal.

She’d passed away unexpectedly a few months later, and Babe cherished that memory like it was his only child. He really can’t fucking remember having told Eugene about it, but he must have, because there are at least three dozen tulips in this one little inconspicuous vase now. 

Stuck into the bunch is a little white card, and Babe’s fingers are trembling when he pulls it out to read it.

_To the bravest person I know. Happy birthday, minou.  
— Gene_

Babe hates whoever invented the lock, because he’s swallowing around nothing and doesn’t know what to do except try to break into the shower and cradle Eugene into the fucking tile wall until he remembers how to be a person again.

He allows himself five minutes to get his feelings under control, and then he goes to the kitchen to find some safety pins and a pair of scissors. Carefully, making sure to not get any discolouring fluid on his new jacket, Babe cuts the top inch of the stems of three of the tulips off, so that he can press them together and pin them to the garment, just above his heart.

He then realises he only has ten minutes until some unknown force is coming “to pick him up,” so Babe quickly drinks the fucking delicious-ass hot chocolate Eugene has made him around the lump in his throat. It tastes of proper chocolate, vanilla and spice, because Gene is an insane person who has to put chilli in everything.

It works, though, and when Bill, Luz, and Toye burst through the front door at 10am sharp to all but haul Babe out of the flat under a lot of noise and party poppers, Babe feels warm from the marrow inhis bones to the tips of his fingers, toes and nose. 

God, Babe loves his friends, because they take him from nostalgically sad to laughing within five minutes, only letting him get his shoes on and complimenting the shit out of his outfit before Joe more or less swings Babe over his shoulder and carries him out the door.

Okay, so maybe Joe actually just swings Babe over his shoulder and carries him out the door, but Babe isn’t going to let everyone know that.

———

[😎](https://www.dictionary.com/e/emoji/smiling-face-with-sunglasses-emoji/)🎉 **_currahee, motherfuckers, we’re planning fucking secrets_ ** 🎉[😎](https://www.dictionary.com/e/emoji/smiling-face-with-sunglasses-emoji/)

_luz life_ : our baby boy has left the building

_luz life_ : i repeat, baby boy has left the building. toye is carrying him rn lol, i promise i’m filming you dont need to ask. rest of you ready?

_Buck:_ Well done, guys. Yeah Skip, Penk and Malark are with me, we’ll meet up with you at the museum

_pinky:_ fuck yeah we ready as shit also u fucking better be filming

_Sgt. Bullshit:_ we’re ready as soon as buck stops fucking texting and starts fucking driving

_Sgt. Bullshit:_ ok he got the msg, we’re on our way,

_schmuck:_ gene u good @ urs?

_Eugene:_ I’m good, Warren. Renee and Ralph will be here soon, we’ll get everything ready.

_Eugene:_ Thanks again, guys, for getting him out of the apartment.

_schmuck:_ u lucky its bb’s bday otherwise id have ur ass 4 calling me fucking warren who the fuck does tht

_Eugene:_ Yeah, because that’s absolutely how that would go.

_BoyToye:_ no problem Gene, nothing I wouldn’t do for a good party.

_luz life:_ also fucking good taste in jackets, doc where the fuck did u learn about fashion???

_luz life_ : lol in ur fucking dreams muck. 

_Eugene:_ I have hidden talents. Got to go now, let me know when you drop him off home, okay?

_schmuck_ : ymmmmmmsd

_schmuck_ : hi sorry this is penk, muck has had his phone taken away bc he said some bad words.

_Eugene_ : I’ll take that as a yes. Renee says hi. Have a fun day.

_BoyToye:_ will do. let us know if there’s anything you need us to pick up on the way later

_Eugene:_ Just Joe and David, I think. They said they got everything last night. 

_luz life:_ (Y)

_luz life:_ ttyl genie

———

Babe doesn’t get back home until six PM, and at that point he’s exhilarated and tired and very, very worked up from about fifteen different kinds of emotions.

He’s very eager to tell Gene all about it — they’d gone to the natural history museum, and the guys had booked a guided tour, and the guide quickly decided to just have a very long one-on-one conversation with Babe on every kind of dinosaur and whales and mammoths and it was fantastic. Dinosaurs were Babe’s favourite thing when he was little — he must’ve seen Jurassic Park at least fifteen times in one year, even though it made him cry, because the dinos were just so fucking cool.

His friends had been their own brand of aggressively supportive, of course, and after three hours of their normal antics the guide had almost become a part of the gang. Babe had gotten her number and promised to meet up and talk about dolphins one day, and because it was his birthday he was free to cling to Bill’s shoulder and ramble about how happy he was to have made a friend without the man having the right to tease him about it.

Then they’d gone for ice cream, and a round of frisbee in the park, and Lipton, Winters and the rest of what they all lovingly called “the Parent Gang” showed up, and Babe got presents and cake and lunch and more rounds of frisbee, and also a lot of champagne because Nixon was unable to give a gift that wasn’t related to alcohol. 

Okay so Nix wasn’t the only person to blame for Babe being slightly intoxicated in public at four pm, but he was the one that had brought the best-tasting stuff, so Babe had drunk mostly of that.

It was a fantastic afternoon, but a part of Babe had been really sad, because a) most of the gang was there, but not all of them, b) it had ended at six, which honestly was a bit too early for being his birthday, Buck driving him home after saying goodbye to the rest of their friends, and c) Eugene hadn’t been there.

Babe knew his roommate had work he couldn’t get away from, but he was still very sad that Gene hadn’t been there to share his day. He missed the man, a lot, and Babe was very much looking forward to crowding him against the sofa, or a wall, or the floor, and finally say thank you for his presents, and the flowers, and for just being so lovely in general.

However, when he finally gets over the threshold, Babe is the one who immediately gets crowded against the door by a very determined Eugene.

And that’s only the third thing he realises about the apartment. 

One: It smells fucking fantastic, like homemade pizza, and jesus christ Babe is going to die if Eugene has made him pizza.

Two: There are balloons everywhere. There is glitter everywhere. There are at least two glowing, spinning disco lights. The flat looks like a Party City store has thrown up in it.

Anyway, the third thing he notices is that he’s pressed up against the door, Eugene kissing him to within an inch of his life, and Babe melts into that for a little bit while he digests the other bits of information.

“How drunk are you, Edward?” Eugene asks, and that would sound accusatory coming from anyone else, but Babe knows Gene is probably asking for some kind of scientific reason. 

“Are we hosting a party?” Is what he responds with, though, because fuck science and logic, Babe is going to cry if he’s right about that suspicion.

“Yes, we are, Heffron,” Eugene says, looking at Babe with a smile hidden underneath a very focused expression. He pulls Babe’s focus with a soft grip on Babe’s jaw, forcing him to look down. “So I need to know how drunk you are, because that determines if you’re going to eat or have a nap first.”

Babe groans. “I don’t need to take a nap, Gene, I promise.” Eugene stares him up and down for a few moments, Babe forcing himself to stay still under the gaze and not give into his urge to just cuddle up to Gene with everything he has.

What? He never claimed to be sober.

Eventually Eugene seems to agree, because he presses a kiss to Babe’s nose. 

“We’ll have pizza in five minutes. You are going to have some water while we wait.”

Babe actually ends up going to the bathroom first, splashing some cold water in his face just to calm down from the excitement. He can’t help but giggle at his own reflection, though, less from his alcohol buzz and more due to the fact that the night isn’t over, and his fucking friends tricked him into thinking it was, but actually him and Gene are hosting a ridiculously decorated birthday party.

Babe fucking loves when they host parties. 

He loves having all their friends over, talking shit and playing games and moving between their little gangs fluidly over the course of the night. There has never been a fight at a party that him and Gene have hosted, unless you count the very memorable night when Lieb and Webster finally snapped and almost ended up fucking in their bathroom after yelling at each other for twenty minutes.

And Babe does not count that, because that was a moment of Love, and everything is allowed when it’s done for Love.

Eventually, though, Babe drags himself out of his happy memories and out of the bathroom. Eugene forces him to eat half a pizza, and Babe forces Eugene to have a shot of vodka (to catch up) which the man takes with a very heavy roll of his eyes.

Then Gene gets changed, and Babe isn’t allowed into his room while he does it. Very offended at the notion that he’d be distracting, Babe retaliates by pulling Eugene into the bathroom when he's done so that he can put eyeliner on him.

There’s no point in hiding that this is done purely because the greatest sight known to man is Eugene Roe, doctor-in-training, wearing a slim white dress shirt with the sleeves folded to his elbows, glare accentuated by black smudges under pitch-black eyebrows.

At least Babe thinks so, and he lets Eugene know in no uncertain terms while he makes him look this way and that, carefully dotting little specks of kohl around his eyes and smudging it out with the pad of his ring finger. 

Shamelessly pulling the birthday card, Babe brushes Eugene’s brows into perfect semi-neatness with a thin mascara brush, sitting back on his heels to judge his own handiwork. 

Eugene is sitting on the toilet, Babe on his knees between his legs, and the tired look he gives Babe is sending him into a very specific headspace way too fast considering their friends are going to show up in about thirty minutes.

He swallows dryly, not trusting himself to look anywhere but Eugene’s lips. Gene parts his mouth under the attention, and then he runs a finger up the line of Babe’s throat until he can tilt his chin up slightly.

Babe closes his eyes just before he can feel a breath against his lips, and he’s pretty sure the shiver going down his spine is visible. 

“I wasn’t planning on doing anything now,” Eugene murmurs, and it’s actual fucking music to Babe’s ears, because _oh God please let them do something now._ “But it’s your birthday, _minou_ , so I’ll be nice.”

“Yes, please,” Babe says, straining up for a kiss. Eugene laughs and pulls back, drawing an unhappy moan from him.

“Impatient boy, I haven’t even told you what yet. You get to choose, sweetie. Either you get to suck me off, right now—“ Babe groans, pressing his hands into Gene’s knees, but he’s not allowed to say anything before Eugene continues, voice alive with playfulness. “Or, stop that. Or, I can take you into the bedroom and make you come on my fingers.”

Jesus Christ, Babe is going to die. He is going to die on his birthday, and that would make for one sad tombstone, wouldn’t it? “Gene, please—“ he tries, but he’s cut off by a tutting noise.

“No, sweetheart, that’s not gonna work. We don’t have time for both, so you have to pick one. And if you don’t, we won’t do either, and if you try to cheat I’ll make you watch while I get myself off instead.” Babe whines, his knuckles going white with the grip he has on Gene’s knees. But when he opens his eyes Eugene has his determined face on, so he knows he’s not getting the man to budge on this one. “Which one is it going to be, kitten?” 

And because Babe is a weak man, he only leans forward to press a kiss to Eugene’s throat, sliding his hands up the insides of Gene’s thighs. The man sighs above him, tilts his head to give Babe better access while Babe unbuckles Eugene’s belt with shivering hands.

“Good boy,” Eugene breaths out, groaning when Babe presses a palm to his already hard dick. “Fuck, _chérie_ , that’s my good boy. I knew you’d make a choice, you sweet thing. Come on, get your mouth on me, show me how much you want it, _mon chaton._ ”

Babe really is a weak, weak man. He pulls down Eugene’s trousers just enough that he probably won’t get stains on them before licking a stripe up Gene’s dick and over the head, revelling in the groaned curse it earns him, the praise when he stops teasing and takes Eugene in properly. 

He looks up, because he has to, and the look he gets back is dark and firm and way too collected for getting his dick sucked, but also filled with something so disbelieving and soft that it makes Babe moan. That, then, makes Eugene groan and close his eyes, one hand fisting in the hair on the back of Babe’s head, setting a comfortably slow pace that Babe can just about relax into.

There’s something so submissive about the whole situation, even by their standards, and there’s no way Eugene hasn’t picked up on it. Babe keeps looking at him, blinking slowly around the reflexive wetness in his eyes from when Gene hits the back of his throat, and it’s unusual enough for him to do that. 

But right now, Babe is on his knees in a fucking bathroom — a clean one that he happens to own, sure, but still — knowing that Eugene is the only one getting off for at least four or five hours, and fuck, Gene is going to have hours to come up with what to do with Babe after this. 

He groans, screwing his eyes shut, because this evening is going to be one hell of a fucking ride. 

“Yeah,” Gene says breathlessly, and Babe wonders if he can read his thoughts, “fuck, sweetie, you are so fucking good, do you know that? And I’m going to be very, very good to you in return. You’re going to wait for me, for the whole night, like the good little thing you are, won’t you? _Bordel de merde, chérie_ , just— Fuck, just like that, just— I’m close, sweetie, I’m—“

Babe moans again, takes in as much of Eugene as he can without inevitably making himself hoarse for the rest of the night, swallowing down on him when Gene takes a shaking breath and rolls his hips once, twice—

Babe is pulled off after a minute, and they’re both left panting, Eugene’s eyeliner-outlined eyes staring down at Babe where he’s probably looking like a fucking mess, and he looks fucking hungry at the sight.

Fuck, Babe is so fucking screwed, how the fuck is he going to survive this night.

“You are such a good little thing, _minou_ ,” Eugene says, pushing Babe back gently so he can stand up and pull his trousers back up. Babe is left on the floor, pressing his forehead into the toilet seat with a groan while Eugene looks himself over for any too-obvious bits of mess.

He then comes down behind Babe, pulling him back until he’s pressed against Eugene’s chest, head leaned onto Gene’s shoulder. Kiss after kiss is pressed into Babe’s neck, a never-ending stream of reassurances and praise and kindness murmured into his skin, hands holding Babe steady until he starts to feel less like a horny puddle and more like a frustrated person.

He turns his head with a soft noise, is rewarded by a kiss and just fucking melts into it.

“Fuck, Gene,” he almost groans, and Eugene laughs before kissing him again.

“Later, I promise.” Babe does groan then, and Gene laughs again, because he’s as cruel as Babe is weak. “You okay, darling? We can go lie down for a little while, if you want, we still have time before—“

“Nah, I’m fine,” Babe promises, turning around so he can give Eugene a few reassuring kisses as proof. “I promise, Gene. I fucking hate this but I also fucking love it, you know?”

“I know,” Eugene responds, indulging as many kisses as Babe asks for. “As long as you love it more than you hate it, yeah?”

“Yeah. I do, Gene, I swear. I’d tell you otherwise.” He gets a satisfied hum in response, pulls two more kisses out of Eugene, then forces himself to lean forward and get to his own feet. Babe goes to lean over the sink, counting to at least thirty to try and get his fucking dick under control.

Eugene is kind of awkwardly hovering at his side, and Babe smiles up at him languidly. “I promise,” he says again to Gene where he’s chewing on his bottom lip with a frown. “I’m okay, Gene. Just give me a few minutes to calm down and come up with an excuse for me if people show up before I get back, okay? I just need a moment.”

Eugene apparently buys that, because he presses one last kiss to Babe’s cheek before leaving the bathroom and quietly shutting the door after him.

Babe then allows himself to freak out properly, because he has no fucking clue how he’s going to survive the next few hours. He has never wanted anything more in his life though, already anxious and excited in a way that might make him a masochist.

Look, Babe has done a lot of soul-searching on that one, and he doesn’t really think he’s into real pain and humiliation all that much, but fuck if he wouldn’t put a lock on any fucking part of him and give Eugene the only key if it meant he could have more experiences like this.

Shit, he’s supposed to be calming down, not work himself up, so he forces himself to undress quickly, take a cold shower and make sure he’s fucking clean, because there’s some kind of symbolism there, isn’t there?

He gets dressed again, feeling a lot better, and is just making sure his clothes aren't too rumpled when he hears their doorbell being rung seven times. Babe stands back up straight and makes sure his hair looks okay in the mirror before leaving the bathroom with one last deep breath.

Eugene shoots him a look as he walks past, looking like nothing’s fucking happened, because he is cursed like that. Gene barely has time to turn the doorknob before George and Joe barge through the door shouting “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ASSHOLE” at the top of their lungs, not catching that Babe’s not the one to open the door.

They spot him laughing at the end of the hallway, and it takes all of three seconds for Babe to be caught between a second ear-deafening happy birthday scream and two very rowdy and probably drunk boys. 

He can’t be bothered, though. It's not more than a minute until they've dragged Babe into very loud banter about how they absolutely got him to think they’d dare let him not have a birthday party, and Eugene just shuts the door with a shake of his head and a laugh.

———

It turns out Babe has the Medical Trio (as Renee, Ralph and Eugene are known in his head) to thank for turning his apartment into a prom night gym hall, and all of his friends for various other aspects of the party.

For example Liebgott and Webster, as an apology for not getting off work earlier (an apology Babe is refusing to accept, because come on, it’s not like it’s their fault), bring a metric fuck ton of alcohol and Babe’s night turns into a game of making Eugene take shots with him.

As a southerner, specifically from bumfuck nowhere, Louisiana (a joke Gene has allowed him to make), Eugene is very capable of holding his liquor. The man denies it, but Babe is pretty sure he was weaned on moonshine. He rarely drinks much, but when he does, he can throw back with the best of them.

By comparison, Babe weighs about ten pounds soaking wet and comes from a family that hasn’t drunk anything but communion wine for generations. He gets three sheets to the wind after half a beer, if he hasn’t eaten enough beforehand, which is probably why Eugene had forced a very large pizza down his throat earlier. 

He appreciates it. He also appreciates the way he can use this to easily make Eugene take his shots for him, because a drunk Eugene is a Eugene that Babe can convince to do things he wouldn’t usually do. 

Like allow Babe to crawl all over him, or to join a game of spin the bottle, or to actually play Truth or Dare by the fucking rules.

They’re all crowded around the space where Babe and Gene’s coffee table used to be, before it got moved to make room to actually spin a bottle, and it’s the perfect excuse for Babe to sit in Eugene’s lap like he belongs there.

(Which he does, but his friends don’t know that.)

The bottle lands on Babe, and he picks Truth, because he’s very comfortable right now and would prefer not to get off Eugene’s lap.

“Okay, birthday boy,” Toye says, Luz grinning already just at the forced-calm sound of his voice. “This is a raunchy one. You ever get eaten out?”

There’s a barrage of noise, because they do that after every question, but Babe just starts laughing.

“Oh god, yes,” he says, holding a finger up to let him finish. “Once, and it was horrible. Like I don’t blame anyone who’s into that, but fuck, man, it’s— God, no, I think it’s been ruined for me forever.”

Webster frowns borderline audibly when he hears that, and Babe almost breaks down into hysterics, because of course David Kenyon Webster would have hard opinions on the topic of ass-eating. Liebgott wordlessly gets up to refill his drink and Babe hides his grin behind the water bottle Eugene has been forcing him to drink out of for the past thirty minutes.

“Babe, you need to get a better experience,” Web says, sounding actually distressed. “What the fuck did he do that was so bad?”

“I really don’t wanna talk about it,” Babe says with a smile, which makes half the room break out into loud protest, the other half staying determinedly silent. 

Even Speirs has a frown on his face where he’s leaned against Malarkey, and it’s the closest thing Babe has ever gotten to seeing pity on the man. It doesn’t suit him.

“Okay, okay, fine, you fucking bag of dicks,” Babe conceits, rubbing a hand over his face, “but it’s not even fun, so we gotta move on then, okay?” The rest agree, Eugene rubbing a reassuring hand up Babe’s spine. “He was just a dick and made it seem like it was this big fucking sacrifice, like I was forcing him to do this gross fucking thing, you know? And get this, he was the one who started it, fucking insisted on it. So I stopped it, and then dude has the nerve to get pissed at me for not being in the fucking mood anymore. So I kicked him out and later fucked his brother.”

Luz screams out a bout of laughter, and Babe feels himself go beet fucking red. He hadn’t planned to share that last part, but it effectively changed the mood in the room for the better, so he guesses he has to live with that, now. 

Even Eugene is shaking with giggles under him, and Babe just smirks and shrugs the shame away under the various levels of applause and appreciation he gets from it. Liebgott comes back, leans down to whisper something into Webster’s ear, and something coils in Babe’s stomach because he recognises that as the sign that the party is about to end that it is.

Given the way Eugene presses his fingers into Babe’s hip, he knows it, too.

Within thirty-five minutes of David and Joe stumbling out with a hurried goodbye and a last birthday greeting, Bill and Frannie are enthusiastically saying farewell to him. Frannie, ever the hugger, has to be peeled away by her fiancee before Babe can close the door behind them with a happy grin.

He’s really tried to keep his mind out of the gutter the whole night, but then he turns around to see Eugene leaned against the wall, arms crossed and one eyebrow cocked, and Babe is suddenly unable to think of anything else than the looks Gene has been sending him. The way he kept finding reasons to whisper things into Babe's ear, the way he licked the side of his shot glass before downing his liquor, the possessive grip he got on Babe’s hip every time Babe mentioned old sexual encounters. 

“You have a fun night, Heffron?” Gene asks in a low voice, and the glint in his eyes tells Babe that his thoughts can probably be read in the blush on his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning back against the closed door. Eugene makes a humming noise, slowly dragging his eyes up and down Babe’s body.

“That’s nice,” he says in a voice that portrays no real concern for how Babe’s night has been so far. “Come here.”

And Babe can’t not, can he? He feels like the past few hours have been erased and he’s back where he was, on his knees, still tasting Eugene on his tongue while the man stares down at Babe like he wants to fucking devour him.

“I’ve been thinking, you know,” Eugene says, not moving an inch as Babe slowly walks over to him. “About how I wanted to take you down.”

When Babe is almost there, Eugene pushes off the wall and starts walking into Babe’s room. He looks over his shoulder exactly once to make sure Babe is following him, which he is, and why? Because Babe is the weakest man to ever have existed.

“I thought I was going to fuck you, and then I thought I was going to have you fuck me again,” he says as he sits down on the bed, leaning back on his elbows in just an unnecessary show-off of his upper body. “I thought about maybe just having you blow me again and then leaving you for the night, I don’t know. You seemed to enjoy it so much the first time.”

Babe has trouble breathing. Eugene’s eyes are dark and hard and adoring, and Babe doesn’t know what to do but to get on his knees in front of him, crawling up between where Gene spreads his thighs to make room for him. They’re both breathing slow, Babe feeling his mind already starting to give in as he presses a kiss to the inside of Eugene’s thighs.

“Take your clothes off,” Gene says almost absentmindedly, and Babe obeys because again, he can't not. He shrugs his jacket off, pulls his shirt over his head and gets started on his jeans while Eugene talks above him. “Do you know how good you are to me, sweetie? Do you know the fucking things I want to do to you? God, every time you look at me I feel like I’m losing my mind, you know that?”

Babe is trying not to shiver as Eugene leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees as Babe pulls off the clothes Gene has given him — and oh, of course the kinky fuck has been getting off on that the whole night, he should have fucking known. 

It makes something hard settle in his stomach, full of anticipation and want and a fucking need to be held down, to have Gene prove his theory, prove that he fucking owns him. 

“God, you are the most perfect thing in the world, how the fuck did I deserve you?” Eugene mumbles, nosing along Babe’s jawline. “You want me to show you just how fucking perfect and gorgeous and wonderful you are, sweetheart?”

Babe nods, eyes closed, because his head is swimming and he’s so fucking turned on he has a hard time thinking. Eugene laughs against his ear and Babe whimpers. “Of course you do. Get on the bed, on your stomach.”

He does, heart pounding because he has no idea what this is, but God he trusts Eugene to the edge of the fucking world. The man crawls up behind him, kisses Babe’s neck slowly. He nips on the flesh where Babe’s neck meets his shoulder, drags his lips down over his shoulder blades in soft, quick presses of his lips.

When Eugene kisses a trail along Babe’s spine, down towards his ass, Babe takes a deep breath, because _fuck_ — “Gene,” he whispers, not sure if he wants to arch his back up or away.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Eugene asks, kissing one side of Babe’s ass. “Do you want me to stop?” 

Babe is suddenly very happy he’s showered twice today and sticks to a very strict bottom-suitable diet (or okay, he tries), because he realises he really doesn’t want Gene to fucking stop.

“No,” he whispers, and is rewarded by Eugene pressing a thumb into the cleft of his ass. He buries his face into the pillow, very grateful that Gene lets him hide like that, this time.

Gene doesn’t say anything, in fact, giving Babe nothing more than two hands spreading his fucking ass apart as a warning before he runs the flat of his tongue over Babe’s asshole, and it’s the best fucking moment of Babe’s life.

He’s shivering immediately, because it’s been a long time since Babe did something that just straight up felt taboo — but here he is, with a tongue on the sensitive skin of his asshole, and Eugene is working him open like he fucking owns him.

And he does, doesn’t he, because Babe just submits. He lets himself be taken apart, lets Eugene spread him open and do whatever the fuck he wants, press a hand into Babe’s perineum and coax Babe’s muscles to relax enough to press his tongue into— 

Babe straight up keens like he’s going to die, and Eugene pulls away with a laugh, which is really fucking unfair. Babe feels like he is about to cry, willing to do that just to get that mouth back on him, but then there’s the click of a bottle being opened which sends another moan up his throat, because he knows what that means.

He hisses at the cold finger pressing against him, and gets a kiss to the back of his thigh in response. “ _Pardon, chérie_ ,” Eugene mumbles, waits a few seconds for the lube to warm up before pressing his fingers in again. 

Eugene has fingered Babe a lot, which just gets to sound exactly like it does, and Babe is a mess at the end of it on a normal occasion. Now, however, Gene alternates between his fingers and his tongue, speaking filth and praise in two languages straight into Babe’s ass like he’s not doing what he’s doing, and it is breaking him apart down to the last coherent sentence.

“Gene,” he eventually sobs out. Babe doesn’t even know when he started sobbing, lost in a haze of heat and shame and security and having his cock trapped against the sheet and his prostate massaged with a fucking ruthless precision for the past however long it's been. Ten minutes? An hour? God knows. “Gene, I can’t, please, please, please—“

He can’t speak, he can’t think, but it’s okay, because Eugene is hushing him, crawls up the length of Babe’s body, pressing down on his back in a way that feels like it’s making it easier for Babe to breath rather than the other way around.

Babe can hear Eugene’s belt being pulled open, and it’s such a definitive fucking sound it makes Babe sob again. Because Gene is still fully fucking clothed, hasn't even unbuttoned his shirt in the time it's taken him to break Babe into a thousand little pieces, and the press of rough fabric against his shivering skin makes him feel powerless in the absolutely best way.

“You ready, sweetheart?” Gene is asking him in a strained voice. Babe can’t get any other response out than a series of mewls, arching his back up into where he can finally feel Gene’s bare skin against his ass. “Fuck, you’re just— _Mon Dieu, chaton, doudou,_ fuck, look at you.”

Babe would rather not, actually, but doesn’t have to say that because Eugene is finally pressing into him and it’s so fucking good, every inch of it making him shiver, the overstimulated nerves of his ass letting him know exactly how deep Gene is about to fuck him.

Eugene’s talking, but Babe can’t hear it, lost in the sound of his voice and the hard thrust of his hips and the press against his prostate and the friction of the sheets on his dick.

It’s a lot, and he pushes his face into the pillow, but that’s apparently not allowed anymore. Eugene leans down on one elbow, wraps his arm around Babe’s throat, forcing his head up, making him arch his back even further which in turn lets him fuck Babe’s poor ass harder.

He doesn’t know what noise he’s making, but it’s apparently enough to make Eugene groan out, “God, sweetie, my sweet fucking boy, come if you want, come for me, but I’m going to fuck you through it, through every second of it, because that’s what you should have gotten always, be treated like the fucking treasure you are, the fucking invaluable, goddamn work of art that you are—“

Babe comes so hard that he sees stars, not knowing how the fuck else to respond to that, and Eugene keeps his promise and doesn’t falter in his movements for a second. Babe is trapped, he can’t get anywhere, can’t stop the pleasure slowly turning into pain, which is then turning back into pleasure, because of reasons he doesn’t know. Fuck trying to put them into words, there are so many more important things to care about, like the fact that Eugene is calling him precious like he actually thinks Babe is just that.

It’s torture, but he loves it, bites into the skin of Eugene’s arm with a whimper just to be able to focus on something. It’s not long before he feels himself tumbling towards the edge again, and he can’t think, he can’t think, he’s lost, but it’s okay because Gene is there to hold him together and keep him safe.

Babe doesn’t know how long it takes, if it’s one more thrust of Eugene's hips into him or a thousand, but the second time he shakes apart Gene goes with him, groaning and panting and sounding like he might be crying, too, which Babe doesn’t understand so he leaves it alone.

When he comes back into it, Eugene is very clearly battling back sleep, forcing himself to stay awake where he’s wrapped himself around Babe, both of them dressed in their softest sleepwear and probably aching just as much, but in completely different ways.  Babe hums, pulling Gene's weight more efficiently on top of him, letting it ground him as he comes back to himself.

“Hey there, love,” Gene mumbles when he notices that Babe’s mind is back online, but Babe silences him by rolling them over and nuzzling his face into Eugene’s neck. “Hey, are you—“

“I feel fantastic, Gene,” Babe says softly, smiling against his collarbone, rubbing his face into the skin there, pressing a leg between Eugene's thighs and sighing happily. “You’re fantastic, this was fantastic, I feel very safe and loved and well-taken care of. Can we talk tomorrow?”

Eugene seems to need a moment to decide if he believes him, Babe now the one fighting against sleep while he makes up his mind. Eugene runs his hands up Babe's arms, tilts his chin up until he's forced to look Gene in the eyes. Babe lets himself get looked over, trying to communicate just how happy and sated and soft and safe he's feeling.

“Yeah,” Gene whispers eventually, “yeah, okay. Happy birthday, Babe.” 

Babe hums happily, leaning in to get a few deep kisses from Eugene that honestly feel just as great as the fantastic sex they just had. “Thank you,” he says. “And for the flowers. I don’t know how the fuck you did that, Gene, but I loved them”

“I’m glad you did, _minou_ ,” Gene says with a smile, kissing Babe one more time before settling them both in to sleep. One of his hands is holding Babe's head in place over his heart, the low, steady beat lulling him unconscious. “Wanted to make you happy.”

“You did. You always make me happy,” Babe mumbles, and falls asleep, feeling happier than he has in a very long time.

**Author's Note:**

> god damn thanks to sar, audrey, laura and emma and everyone else on the nsfw chat that got me the fuck through this and also kept throwing plot bunnies at me every time i got stuck, you are the only reasons I managed to churn this out in six and a half fucking hours including eating dinner during that time.
> 
> i'm gonna go fucking die now. happy birthday babe <3


End file.
